


Unconventional Courting Methods

by GracefulLioness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Courting Rituals, F/M, Fluff, From Sex to Love, Pansy has to court Neville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefulLioness/pseuds/GracefulLioness
Summary: Sick of being shot down, Neville gives up on asking for anything more from his casual, no-strings-attached partner, Pansy. So when she decides she wants more than that, he thinks it's only fair that she should court him properly.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 207
Collections: LoveDump 2020





	Unconventional Courting Methods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/gifts).



> Written for NuclearNik, because she's such a gem.
> 
> My first try at a Panville, and I think I love them.

Pansy was sure she was losing her mind. She couldn’t be certain exactly how it had happened, but there was no doubt about it now—she was _courting_ Neville Longbottom. 

She supposed it had started after Draco and Hermione’s wedding. Granger had been gorgeous in her custom gown, marrying Pansy’s ex of all people. And Pansy was there stag. So she drank. 

And drank.

And drank some more.

After her fourth firewhisky, Pansy couldn’t help but notice the dashingly handsome wizard chatting with George Weasley. She stared for at least ten seconds before realising why he was so familiar. 

He was thinner and taller, his teeth were straighter, and he wore tailored dress robes that made his body look sublime, but there was no mistaking him. It was Neville Longbottom. 

As she was staring at him, he caught sight of her. After muttering something to his friend, he walked over and stood before her. Pansy looked up at him. Even in her heels, he was nearly a foot taller than she was. 

“Hullo, Pansy.” His voice was deeper than she remembered. “You look well.” 

“Longbottom,” she greeted, still scarcely believing her eyes. “You look… _Wow_.” 

She grimaced, wishing she had a Time Turner so that she could go back and say something else… _anything_ else. But Neville just chuckled and took a sip of his drink. 

They chatted for a while about things Pansy couldn’t remember, he bought her a drink, he loosened his tie. He was _charming_. She wondered where he’d gotten all this confidence. He seemed so different from the timid boy she’d known in school. And yet, he was still the same, kind-faced boy she’d teased at Hogwarts. He smiled freely and blushed adorably when she made suggestive jokes. 

The next thing she knew she had invited him back to her place. What followed was a blissful blur of lips and skin, heated touches from Neville’s large hands, and his toned body pressing against hers until her toes curled in ecstasy. 

The following morning, he’d been wonderful—a perfect gentleman offering to buy her breakfast. And how had she treated him in return? By blowing him off and hurrying him out of her flat. 

But despite her callus treatment of him, he came back two weeks later when she Flooed him because she wanted his touch again. After that they fell into a routine. He came when she called, spent all night giving her the most mind blowing orgasms of her life, and then left when she hurried him out at dawn. 

Every few weeks he asked her if he could take her on a proper date. He wanted _more,_ and he was very clear about it. But Pansy always refused. 

It wasn’t just that he was _Neville Longbottom_ , it’s that she was Pansy Parkinson, and all her life she’d had an image of the man she’d end up with. And that man wasn’t Neville… was it? 

After months, Neville stopped asking Pansy out on dates. And for a while, she was pleased. After all, it’s what she’d wanted: great sex, no strings attached. Simple. Uncomplicated. 

But soon she began to miss him asking her out. She missed the hopeful look in his eye each time he asked, and the way he would casually pretend it didn’t bother him when she declined. 

One morning, six months after their first night together, Neville woke up early and began pulling on his clothes as he always did. 

“Nev,” she sighed, nestling into the pillows and admiring his toned torso as he shrugged his button down over his shoulders. 

“Hmm?” 

“Are you ever going to ask me out again?” 

Neville froze for a fraction of a second before turning his head to stare at her incredulously. “Do you _want_ me to ask you out again?” 

Pansy bit her lip and shrugged. “I just… You haven’t asked in a while, and I’ve been thinking that maybe I would… like to go on a date with you, that is.” 

Neville scoffed and continued buttoning his shirt. He shook his head exasperatedly. When she didn’t reply, he glanced at her again. “Are you serious?” 

Feeling her cheeks flush, Pansy shrugged again. “If you asked, I’d say yes.” 

At that, Neville threw his head back with a bitter laugh. He dragged his hands through his tousled hair. “You really are something, do you know that?” 

Pansy blinked, taken aback. 

“I lost track of how many times I asked you out, you know. For _months_ , Pansy. And I finally got it. I thought to myself, ‘she just wants sex.’ And I was _fine_ with that. I accepted it. And now that I’ve stopped asking, you’ve decided that you’d like me to ask you out again?” 

Pansy wanted to shrink into the pillows and disappear. He was right, of course. It was shit timing on her part to realise that she wanted more after he’d given up. But she couldn’t help it. 

“Well, I’m done asking, Pansy,” Neville told her matter-of-factly. 

Feeling her stomach sink, Pansy nodded. It seemed she’d missed her chance with Neville. All they would ever be was physical. Nothing more. 

“If you want to go out with me,” Neville continued, “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to ask me yourself.” 

Pansy looked up sharply. Neville was smirking down at her. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

“Ask _you_ out?” 

“Yes.” 

Pansy had never asked a man out before. It was traditional, after all, for the man to ask the woman. That’s how it was always done in Pureblood society. And besides, she was pretty. Pretty girls didn’t have to ask boys out. But if this was what she needed to do to be with him, she supposed she could summon her courage and do it. 

Sitting up, she squared her shoulders proudly. “Neville, will you go out with me this Friday?” 

Neville tilted his head to the side thoughtfully and smiled at her mockingly. “Hmm… I don’t think so.” 

“What?” Pansy balked. “But you just said—” 

“Well, maybe I need to be wooed a little more.” 

Pansy arched one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Wooed?” 

Neville pulled on his blazer and then leaned forward onto the bed, stopping with his face inches from hers. “Yes. You know… courted.” 

“You want me to court you?” 

Neville grinned at her. “I think I deserve to be courted, don’t you?” 

Pansy blushed again. “I don’t know how to court someone.” 

“Have you ever been courted?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then that’s how I’d like to be courted.” Neville leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. He pulled back an inch, his breath still ghosting over her lips as he spoke in a low voice. “And don’t skimp on the theatrics, Parkinson. I’m a pureblood, after all. I know what the traditional courting methods should entail.” 

And then he straightened up, grabbed his cloak, and disappeared into her Floo with a wicked smirk. 

Which led Pansy to where she was now: courting Neville Longbottom. 

She tried simple things at first. She wrote out a poem she found in a book and sent it to him on parchment she sprayed with her perfume. She sent chocolate frogs to him, knowing that they were his favorite sweet. She sent him expensive bouquets of flowers. Nothing worked. And what was worse, it seemed that Neville had decided that they shouldn’t have sex while he was being courted. Something about it being indecent for a fine, upstanding young pureblooded man to give it up without being wooed. 

Pansy knew he was just teasing her, but the more sexually frustrated she became, the more it stung when he brushed off her advances. 

At last, Pansy knew she needed to make a grand gesture. And with no ideas, she turned to the only people she felt could help her. 

“You’ve been sleeping with Neville for over six months and you still don’t know enough about him to do this yourself?” Hermione asked skeptically, stirring honey into her tea. 

“Granger’s right, Pans. That’s pretty sad,” Draco agreed, shaking his head and reaching for a biscuit. 

“I know things about him,” Pansy huffed. “But we hardly talked, you know. And I didn’t think I was going to need to know the things he told me about himself.” 

Hermione arched an eyebrow and shared a brief look with her husband. “Well, he’s a herbologist.” 

“Yes, of course I knew _that!”_ Pansy snapped. 

“Perhaps you could give him a plant. Do you know his favorite?” 

“His favorite plant?” Pansy thought for a moment, wondering if Neville had ever told her. “I don’t think he’s mentioned.” 

“Just keep it simple,” Draco advised. “He likes plants, so he probably wouldn’t appreciate you giving him cut flowers. Living plants, I would guess. Right, Granger?” 

Hermione smiled and nodded. “Something that proves you’re willing to put in some effort. Maybe a plant that’s rather difficult to grow?” 

“How the hell am I supposed to do that? _He’s_ the herbologist!” 

Hermione reached for the teapot and refilled everyone’s cup, offering her husband another biscuit as she did. “Neville just wants to see that you’re trying. That you care about him and his interests. That’s all courting is, really.” 

Draco offered to let Pansy borrow a few books on herbology, and then she left to bury herself in research. 

Three weeks later, Pansy walked up the long drive to the Longbottom Manor in her most becoming dress. The potted bird of paradise flower in her arms was heavy, but she’d managed to make it bloom and was quite proud to show it to Neville. She knocked on the door and stood back, trying desperately to quell the frantic rhythm of her heart. 

The door opened and a small house-elf in a pristine, white pillowcase beckoned her inside. “Master Neville will be with you soon, Miss.” 

Pansy nodded her thanks and moved into the foyer. Her heels clicked against the marble floor. The house-elf disappeared, leaving her alone. Pansy looked around the entrance hall. 

She often forgot that the Longbottoms came from money. Sure, this house was nothing compared to the Malfoy Manor, but it was still grand in it’s own way, and it felt warm and welcoming. 

Pansy shifted the pot under one arm so that she could smooth down her hair with the other hand. She brushed the front of her dress briefly, hoping that she looked as beautiful as she felt. 

“You must be Miss Parkinson.” 

The voice was so direct and abrupt, that Pansy jumped and wheeled around, the potted plant slipping from her hands and falling to the floor. It smashed against the marble, sending clay shards and dirt scattering across the foyer and Pansy’s shoes. 

Mouth agape, Pansy’s eyes fell upon a stern-looking older witch in stiff robes and pursed lips. 

“So you’re the one who keeps owling my grandson,” the woman sniffed, her eyes raking over Pansy’s face and body and scowling at the ruined flower. 

“Please take more care with his heart than you do with your plants.” 

Then Pansy watched, aghast, as Mrs. Longbottom crossed through the foyer and into a closed room to the right. 

Alone again, Pansy looked down at her flower. The pot had been smashed, but that was nothing magic wouldn’t be able to fix. The worst was the plant itself. It sat in the middle of the wreckage, tilted at a strange angle, its lovely petals drooping toward the ground. 

Pansy’s lip quivered as she sank to her knees to try to salvage it. 

“Pansy?” 

Her head snapped up. Neville was descending the stairs and moving toward her quickly. 

“What happened?” 

Pansy took a rattling breath. “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be perfect, but I dropped it and now it’s ruined!” Tears slipped from her eyes as she gestured toward the wilted plant. 

Neville sank to his knees beside her and placed a hand on the side of her cheek. “It’s alright, Pansy. Not to worry. Plants are more resilient than you think.” He pulled out his wand and repaired the pot. With another spell, all of the soil and the plant were righted inside the pot. 

“But it was blooming and perfect,” Pansy pouted, more tears slipping from her eyes at the sight of the droopy flower. “I needed it to be perfect. I needed to show you how important you are to me.” 

Neville’s expression was soft as he wiped some tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumb. “It _is_ perfect,” he assured her gently. “Now we get to help fix it together.” 

Pansy smiled through her tears. “I’m sorry I’m such shit at courting you, Neville.” 

“You’re not.” Neville leaned forward and kissed her softly. 

“Will you please go out with me?” she asked with a sniff. 

Neville laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’ve had enough, haven’t you?” He brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at her adoringly. “Dinner Friday? I already made a reservation.” 

Pansy smiled. “Sounds perfect.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ThorneAndRose for looking this over for me!


End file.
